


melodrama (oh how fast the evening passes)

by connorswhisk



Series: killin' me alive [2]
Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/F, Lack of Communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: Ivy wakes up, and Harley is gone, just as she'd expected.But that doesn't change what Ivy had drunkenly spilled to her the night before, and that's a problem.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Series: killin' me alive [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199774
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	melodrama (oh how fast the evening passes)

**Author's Note:**

> best understood if you read the first part of this series first, as this is a continuation of that from ivy's perspective
> 
> title taken from sober ii (melodrama) by lorde

Ivy wakes up alone and hungover. This isn’t usually out of the norm for her - except that last night, she _hadn’t_ been alone, and as she blinks the bleariness out of her eyes and winces away from the pale grey light filtering through her windows, she wonders when Harley left.

Because of course Harley had left - Ivy had known, from the first knock on her door, that she would. Harley likes to call herself independent, likes to think of herself as ruler of her own fate, but she isn’t. Not really. Anyone can see that.

Ivy knows exactly where Harley is right now, and it makes her stomach churn (though that could just be the vodka talking (but it probably, definitely isn’t, not when it comes to Harley)).

She pushes herself to her feet reluctantly and shuffles over to the kitchen to fix herself a prairie oyster, trying to piece together the previous night’s events as she does.

Ivy rummages through her cabinets, pulling out Worcestershire sauce - _we drank (obviously) -_ sriracha - _Joker was fighting Batman, otherwise she wouldn’t have come -_ vinegar - _we slept together, I know that, but -_ to the counter, for salt and pepper - _but -_ to the fridge for one of her three remaining eggs (she’ll have to go shopping soon) - _but I -_

She mixes her ingredients together and wonders, hazily, what the fuck she said to Harley last night, exactly.

A quick throw back of her head, and the oyster slips down her throat easily - she grimaces, smacks her lips, waits for her thoughts to clear - and as the murk in her brain dissipates, the glass falls to the floor, where it shatters into fifty fragmented pieces.

She remembers.

“Oh… _fuck,_ ” Ivy curses, at her stupidity, at the glass, at Harley, at everything. She swallows roughly and rests her forehead in the palm of her hand.

_Dumbass,_ she thinks.

She’d told Harley the one thing she swore to herself she’d never voice out loud. She’d told Harley that she _loved_ her. Like an _idiot._ She’d downed too much liquor, let her tongue get too loose, and ruined everything.

But…Harley had still slept with her, anyway. Ivy can’t be sure if that really means anything or not.

Regardless, she has to right this wrong. Harley left a while ago, and she’s almost certainly with the Joker now, but Ivy can still fix this. She can.

Or, she can at least _try_ to.

After sweeping up the glass shards, she hunts around for her phone for five straight minutes before finding it wedged in between the couch cushions, dust and grime coating its screen. She sighs, scrubs at it half-heartedly with the blanket she’d slept under _(the blanket Harley had slept under with her, cradled in her arms, if only for a few hours),_ and is about to hit the _Call_ button on Harley’s contact, when she hesitates.

Harley’s probably glued to Joker’s side at the moment, and won’t be able to pick up Ivy’s call. And even if Ivy left a voicemail, there’d be almost no chance of Harley getting to listen to it - not with the Clown Prince of Crime constantly leering over her shoulder, holding the leash he has on her tight and grinning like the fucked-up bastard he is.

So Ivy opts for a text message, instead, typing and retyping and hitting the backspace key until she has something that’s hopefully not completely terrible and awkward:

**Me:** Hey, Harls. IDK if you remember much about last night, but I just wanted to apologize for anything I might have said to you. Drunk me is such a mess, LOL. But anyway. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. Just wanted to let you know. Haha.

She hits send before she can think twice, immediately cringes ( _“Haha?” What the fuck is_ wrong _with you, Isley?),_ and makes herself put her phone down so she isn’t staring at the screen, waiting for a reply for hours.

Ivy busies herself with watering her plants and shaking off the last remaining strains of her hangover, trying to keep her mind occupied with other things, but always seeming to return to Harley, despite her best efforts. She knows Harley won’t hate her for her drunken confession - but it’s a little nerve-wracking, and a little anxiety-inducing, and a little _heartbreaking,_ too. What with the way things are.

It’s not that Ivy’s expecting Harley to stop talking to her; but it’s not that she’s expecting her to say _I love you, too,_ either.

No matter how much she’d like that, it won’t happen.

Three hours later, while Ivy is dully flipping through the channels and forcing herself away from the memories of the night before, her cell phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of her, and her heart leaps to her throat.

Ivy swallows, mutes the TV, and opens her messages before she starts worrying too much about it.

**Harls:** hey ivy!! nah, i don’t really remember SHIT from last night, lmfaooo. guess i went a little too hard on the vodka as usual. so if u said anythin freaky to me, here’s your free pass to pretend it never happened! lol.

**Harls:** lmk if you’ve got another gig planned, btw. mistah j’s gonna hit the wayne charity ball next week and he wants me to stay back and fend off any motherfuckers who try and attack while he’s gone. you could come over if u wanted, give me some company? i’d sure appreciate it, pammy. anyway, had fun last night. hope to see you again soon!! ❤️❤️🖤🖤

Ivy swallows a second time, but this time, there’s a lump lodged in her throat that just won’t go down, and she can’t bring herself to write back.

It’s about what she’d predicted Harley would say; but that doesn’t make it sting any less. Ivy can _tell_ she’s bluffing, can _tell_ that she remembers - being a misanthrope has its perks, and Ivy can read people like nobody’s business, even over text - and she knows Harley so well, anyway, knows her more than anyone else, has let her do things to her that no one else has, and no one else ever could, and Ivy _knows -_

Ivy knows _better._

And it doesn’t matter. It _won’t_ matter. Not until Harley leaves the man holding her back and pulling her strings. Ivy does what she can to help her out, but…

Sometimes, Ivy thinks that Harley might never go through with it.

And that…that _scares_ her.

Ivy throws her phone across the couch, pulls her legs up to her chest, and pretends that she can’t feel the way her eyes burn harshly and her chest aches, deep and to the core.

~~_And it doesn’t work at all._ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> i love harlivy angst so much when am i ever gonna let them be happy :/
> 
> i feel like i should continue this series, but i’m not totally sure of where i’d go next - if anyone has any suggestions/ideas of what they’d like to see, i’d love to hear them :)
> 
> follow my [tumblr](https://connorswhisk.tumblr.com) for more harlivy/dc nonsense


End file.
